I'm on My Way, I Don't Know Where I'm Going
by FelixFelicis009
Summary: Santana feels less herself when she doesn't have Brittany around. She finally begins to acknowledge some of her feelings.
1. Chapter 1

_**Santana**_

For some reason, I'm just not feeling it lately. _It._ The magical aura that usually encases the beautiful body the dung heaps at McKinley High are privileged to see on a daily basis. And I can't put my finger on what exactly isn't the same. It can't be my special song-and-dance numbers behind closed doors in the men's locker room after hours; I haven't come home from one of those in weeks without trying to get the image of a weak-kneed, clown faced white boy out of my mind. Sam is kind about it I guess. He has the courtesy to try to avoid getting his talentless seed on me. Finn and Puckerman however seem to think it's a game to try to soak me with their tiny squirt pistols. Ugh, disgusting boys.

My _It_ doesn't even seem to come out when I'm killing it in the choir room with the Glee misfits. Mercedes and I usually have some kind of weird musical chemistry where everything sounds holier than the Vatican when we sing. The only time I felt close to my usual height of royalty was when I sang "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon today. It might have been because Mr. Schuester was clapping like a gay dolphin at the end of the song, but the slight high I had while singing quickly dissipated once I stopped. I caught Brittany's eye once during the chorus though and I think that totally helped me get my _It_ on for a minute. We are best friends, after all. It only makes sense that she inspires me like that, right?

Anyway, I've spent most of my afternoons in the gigantic garage my father built years ago on a whim. He thought it would be cool to do rich dude stuff like fix up vintage cars, and I was all for it when I was younger because it meant I got to spend a few minutes every weekend in his presence while he showed me a few things about working on cars. However, that phase quickly blew over after my dad started getting too many business calls and stopped knowing what to do to get the cars running after a while. Once he stopped going out there, or being at home altogether, I would just go into the garage and pace around, just because the feeling was nostalgic. When simply being in the garage wasn't enough, I would pick up the tools and tinker timidly on the cars in there. Once I totally didn't know what I was doing when I picked up a nail gun thinking it was a sander and accidentally nailed a streak in the side of one of my dad's favorite cars. Three weeks passed and it never came up, and I knew I was safe to do as I pleased in that garage. Dad would never even notice the difference.

That's where I was yesterday afternoon when Brittany drove up.

"Hey! My dad said the air conditioning was going bad in my mom's van, and I figured you would know what to do. I already fixed it though I think. I poured some of my Sheer Blond into the air vents. That's the kind of conditioner I use, so I figure the mini-van won't mind."

Most people would take this comment as a sign that an imminent face-palm was coming. But I had known Brittany for years, and I knew this wasn't the height of good ideas gone bad in her mind. So I shrugged.

"Well Britt, I can't say that's the best way to handle it. Maybe you should let me take a look instead."

"Great!" she chimed. "I knew you could do it! Plus it's a great excuse to get out of the house. I can't wait till I get my own car."

"Yeah, this one does seem to be on its last leg. I'll see what I can do about finding you a cheap one. I've had my eye on a few used car dealerships lately anyway."

Brittany had this puzzled look on her face that I knew would be followed by a comment explaining what she thought was perfectly obvious. "Thanks San, but I don't think this car needs legs. It uses wheels mostly."

I laughed at the sincerity of her comment. A lot of kids at school make fun of the way Brittany sees the world, but I'd swear on Whitney Houston's grave that she's a hell of a lot more caring and sincere than anyone else in all of God forsaken Lima, Ohio.

"So what kind of cars have you been looking at, though?" Brittany asked.

"Oh, well since your family doesn't need drive around a caravan of soccer monkies since you and Lil' Squirt are done with that business, I was thinking something smaller than a mini-van. I dunno, we'll have to see."

Britt nodded in approval at my words and approached me. I was leaning on my hands at the front of an old fix-me-up manual Mustang from the 60s. I know she likes looking at all the shiny stuff under the hood, so I often let her watch me work on cars when she was over and Gossip Girl wasn't on. We hung out most week days and definitely every weekend, but lately she was too busy with helping her mom with piano lessons. Mrs. Pierce recently lost her patience with the snot nosed tater tots she was supposed to be teaching piano to. I don't blame her; if I had slimy kids greasing up my grand piano, I would blow a gasket sooner or later too! Brittany didn't want her mom to lose all her business though, so she had taken over and started teaching about 2/3 the lessons until her mom could regain composure and resist the urge to bitch-slap the next corndog shaped tween who came in for lessons.

"What are you gonna do with all these cars once they're all fixed up?" Brittany wondered.

I shrugged. I really didn't know what I was going to do once I fixed them. I'd been working on them all for so long and not a single one was done, I wasn't used to the idea of any of the cars actually being complete. "I'm not sure. What do you think I should do with them?"

"Well for one, make sure they have enough conditioner. Then after that, you should start your own car business! My dad loves sports cars! He could be your first customer!"

I smiled big at Brittany. She was always so encouraging. I wondered where she got all that spunk from, because it certainly wasn't me. I spend almost as much of my time criticizing people as I do out in the garage working on these cars. At least those are two things I'm good at. Damn. I need to get _It_ back.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Brittany**_

Watching Santana fix up that car yesterday was really fun since I hardly get to leave the house anymore. I really love my family and I love being able to be so helpful to my mom, but it stinks not being able to spend as much time with my friends as I'm used to. I think it's started affecting Santana a little bit too. She doesn't seem as… _rude_ as usual. Of course, she's never been rude to me or anything. She just has a tendency to snap at everyone else who talks to her.

Today is Friday though, or at least that's what the calendar Lord Tubbington made me for Christmas says. I always wondered how his paw writing was so neat since he never made it out of the 4th grade when my mom stopped home schooling me and my little brother Mark. But this weekend is my chance to get my social life back. My mom and dad are going out to drink with my dad's close friends from college and Mark is spending the night with a friend. All I need is something to do for dinner and a date for Lord Tubbington!

_**4:32pm Britt-Britt**__ hey san, what are you doing for dinner? The folks are gone and I only know how to make cereal_

_**4:34pm Santana**__ that's just perfect because I have two tickets to see thor and I can't swoon over hot blonds all by myself. I'll pick you up at 7 for dinner_

_**4:35pm Britt-Britt**__ is this a date? And if by hot blonds you meant hot brunettes, yeah I'll totally go with you._

At 7:01, I sprinted to the front door when the bell rang, shouting goodbyes to my family. "See you guys tomorrow night!"

When I opened the door, Santana of course was there, but it seemed like every trace of the weird mood she'd been in lately was gone. She was wearing a slim fitting red dress that stopped mid-thigh, and by the time I had looked from her black heels to her eyes, I realized I had not in any way been discrete about my gawking.

"Damn Brittany, you look like you caught Berry on top of Twinkle-Toes Angel Gay. My eyes are up here!" she sneered.

I suddenly felt nervous and flushed so I just laughed a little and made a beeline for the car. With my hand on the handle, a thought struck me. "Am I dressed okay?"

I was wearing my favorite skirt that was equally as short as Santana's, but definitely not as tight fitting. I didn't have a bubbly Latina butt to fill the back of mine. And my simple black top and black flats paled in comparison to her outfit.

"Don't be ridiculous! Breadstix and a movie is definitely casual. I just wanted an excuse to dress up without having hogs from the football team squealing in my ear. You look beautiful!"

Right after Santana said that though, she looked down quickly as if she said the wrong thing, but it didn't feel wrong at all. In fact, I felt flushed again the way I did when my old boyfriends would tell me something sweet. This was way better though because I don't feel guilty for not returning the sentiment. We both got in the car and buckled up.

"Santana…" I waited until she looked up from fiddling with the radio. "Thanks. You look outstandingly beautiful yourself," I said, nodding.

She pursed her lips for a second as the smallest of smiles played at the corners of her mouth. I knew she knew I meant it because I always mean what I say, especially to Santana, but also because she had that look in her eyes like she was fighting to not believe something that was true. I wished she would just accept it.

By the time we were done laughing about the kind of children everyone in Glee Club would have together, it was time for the movie to begin. Somehow we had finished our food, Santana had paid for dinner, we had driven to the movie theater, gotten popcorn and drinks, and sat down before I knew what happened. I don't remember seeing much other than Santana's eyes anyway. I was watching closely to note the warmth as it creept back into them. So much of it had faded away the past few weeks; or at least I wasn't around very often to see it there because of my mom's piano lessons.

"Ugh!" groaned Santana during the movie. "Thor is _so sexy_! Blonds must have it in for me; I _swear_ they're all trying to get in my pants!"

"Shhh! Natalie Portman is talking!"

At this, Santana gave one of her famous eye rolls accompanied by a not so familiar skeptical glance out of the corner of her eye. As soon as Natalie had said her piece, I felt San lean towards me.

"You have the hots for Portman? She's alright, but totally weird. You know, she rapped once on SNL? And I hear she can speak Arabic. She's totally…"

"SHHH!"

After the movie though, I asked Santana what she was saying about my lady crush, and I tried not to sound too defensive.

"I mean, she just seems so foreign compared to your usual taste. I've never seen you like someone so much since Rory the soulless ginger leprechaun joined Glee, especially a lady."

I hesitated. It's definitely normal to have a girl crush on a celebrity, right? I mean, they have bromances and stuff on TV, right? So this can't be much different, can it?

"Well… I-" I hesitated again, not sure of what I was about to say. "I do like ethnic girls I guess." I scrambled to try to recover from my weird comment. "They're a lot more interesting than the plain blond guys you like!"

Santana just shoved me playfully and looked away and mumbled something that sounded to me like "Not just guys."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Santana**_

Is it just me or is Brittany strangely interested in Natalie Portman. And _ethnic girls._ What the hell is that crap? And why am I panicking about it so much? I'm Santana Freaking Lopez. I keep my cool.

To be honest though, last night was the best I'd felt in weeks. I think it had something to do with being around Brittany because it definitely wasn't Breadstix. It might have been Thor's too-big-to-not-be-from-Asgard's muscles, but I really do think it was my best friend. As I was dropping her off at home for the night, we had the strangest conversation.

"Thanks San, it was nice of you to pick me up and pay for all my stuff. What a perfect _date_," she giggled.

"Totally, Britt. It's been a while since we've hung out like that. I'm not implying that I have a heart or _feelings_ or anything, but I miss having someone to whisper my uniquely biting criticisms to. Thanks for going with me."

"Any time! Do you wanna get together tomorrow and catch up on Gossip Girl? We've missed like… a lot of episodes."

"Yeah we should totally get together!" My eyes widened as I realized what I said. "I mean, of course, to watch TV. Not like… well you know… you know what I'm saying."

Brittany laughed and reached across the car to pull me into a hug. It was far too brief- I hardly had time to close my eyes before she was pulling away again and getting out. We waved and said goodnight and I slowly backed out of her driveway and headed home.

In the morning I woke up with a strange image in mind. In my dream, Brittany had been wearing her Cheerios uniform and singing "Love On Top" by Beyonce when Artie wheeled into the choir room, jumped out of his chair, and whisked her off her feet. Her uniform then turned devilishly black, and I don't mean that in the way that it was a scary nightmare thing. It just looked super sexy on her. The next thing I knew, I was screaming at Artie and running across the room to rescue her, but Puckerman, Finn, _and_ Sam all stood in the way. Someone pushed me to the ground and they all turned on Brittany, who was just laughing and soaking up all the attention. I started to scream again. _Put her down, you legless body snatcher! She's mine! She's mine! She's mine!_

I didn't want to acknowledge what I saw in my dream, or especially the way I was reacting to the situation. I decided to put my iPod on shuffle really loudly as I got in the shower. A few songs in though, some entirely too sentimental whiney boy was singing about how he's got friends who la-la lie, and that "Every scene was a sign; we made out through their meaning". An image of last night's movie flashed into my mind and I couldn't help but agree the idea was a little tempting. Wait, what?

Since the loud music wasn't doing anything to help my weird predicament, I got dressed, ate some toast, and headed to the garage where surely the noise of power tools would drown out my thoughts.

The Mustang was looking considerably better than it used to, and it was definitely close to being drivable. If it weren't such a God awful shade of douchey Mohawk boy's rusty skin, I would have half a mind to take it for a ride right now. I decided it could wait for a paint job before going out though, so I headed to the depths of the garage to look at what colors we had.

I came back with some red paint and some black paint, torn between the two.

"Hey Santana!"

I shrieked with surprise and leapt backwards, nearly taking off my head on a saw set up behind me.

"Jesus Brittany! What the hell are you doing in my car? I nearly got skinned alive like those stupid dogs in The Village_!_"

She was giggling at my fright and it was starting to make me mad, but then there she was, making car noises and pretending to drive my Mustang. And damn, did she look good behind the wheel.

"Earth to Santana! Lima, we have a problem! Hey, seriously, what are you staring at?"

I quickly dropped my gaze to the paint cans I had dropped. It looked like the red had busted open a little and some paint had leaked out, leaving a suggestively blood-like pool at my feet.

"It's a car, not a space ship, Britt." I sighed. "Well, I guess it'll be black with red stripes then. What do you think of that, Britt-Britt?"

"I think I'll have to see it on the car and see you in the car to decide that."

She swung herself out from the open window with ease and plopped down on the ground in her fake cowboy boots, jean shorts, and a white tank top that was not nearly snug enough for my liking. Her hair was immensely longer when it wasn't in the standard Cheerios ponytail, and the way it was brushing against her neck and shoulders was making me a bit antsy for some reason.

"Should we head inside, Grease Monkey?" Brittany asked. "Gossip Girl isn't gonna watch itself, unless of course she actually has an identity and is like… keeping up with the show. But we should go anyway. I'm thirsty."

I let her lead me into my own quiet house to the usual couch in front of the best TV that had TiVo. I plopped down and took up the whole length of the sofa while Brittany helped herself to the glass bottles of Mexican Coke from my fridge. That kind is way better than the normal kind, and it's fun to drink out of a glass bottle anyway. When she came back, I had my eyes closed, which apparently didn't stop her from plopping down onto my stomach.

"Doh! Britt, you gotta let me get some air!" I gasped, laughing.

"Oh boo-hoo, I know you're fine!" But she wiggled off my stomach and onto the edge of the couch anyway. "San, you have to scootch back so I can fit on here, you lazy bones!"

I maneuvered to my side so I was facing the television and slid so my back was pressed against the back of the couch. I was enjoying our close proximity too much to actually sit up. My couch was way too big for us to both be sitting normally and for it to not be weird if our arms were touching or something. Brittany didn't seem to mind though, and she just backed her ass right into the curve my body was making. I don't know if she noticed, but we both sighed as we relaxed in that position.

We watched an episode or two of Gossip Girl like that, but Brittany had the remote and I was not paying any attention whatsoever to the goobs on TV, so I hardly noticed that the opening credits of Lord of the Rings was playing.

"Strange pick!" I commented.

"Oh, everybody at school is always making references that I don't get and Lord Tubbington gets too scared to watch it with me, so I figured now would be a good time to watch it if I'm ever going to," Brittany answered.

"That's fine and everything, but you know there's a lot of blood and weird creatures and talking trees and suspense in this movie, right?"

"Yeah but I'm with you so none of it can hurt me, right?"

At that my heart shifted in my chest a little bit. Definitely because we're best friends and I really do care about Brittany and I really do intend to protect her from all harm though…

"Right. Definitely not. You're as safe as Coach Beist's rotisserie chicken if you're with me," I joked to make it seem less serious. I don't know who I wanted to convince though.

Brittany giggled and then laid down on her side too so our heads were at the same end of the couch. She seemed so non-chalant about it when she scooted back into my body and bent the same ways I was bending so we made a perfect fit. A perfect fit like best friends though. Of course.

The movie droned on and I didn't care at all that it was super long. I was preoccupied with the way Brittany's ribcage rose and fell and how with every breath she was pressing in to me that much closer for a quick moment. Then I really lost count of the minutes when I started inching my head forward so I was close enough to graze her shoulder with my lips. I'm not sure if she noticed or not, but if she did, she only moved closer. Slowly, my arms moved from being curled against my chest to encasing Britt's slender body. And after a while, she wasn't quite on her side anymore, but on her back instead, tilting her head towards me.

"What the hell is happening, Britt?" I whispered, fearing any loud noise or sudden movement would scare her away like a wild animal.

"Who the hell cares, San?" And with that, she closed her eyes. I could tell she was holding her breath, so I leaned in to kiss her 90% because I had to or my heart would explode and 10% because I didn't think Brittany would take a breath until I did.

The distance between us closed as I was propelled towards her mouth, and the first contact was long and unmoving- just my lips upon hers. As the seconds passed, I knew I needed to do something else before she pulled away and the moment disappeared, so naturally I rolled to push her on her back and to give myself the leverage I needed to keep this steamy moment afresh. Our lips broke for a brief second and I watched Brittany's face for any sign of restraint, but her eyes hardly opened half way before I saw the look she had.

It wasn't a hungry look in the lustful way that I'd seen in the eyes of so many guys I'd been with before. This look seemed more like Britt was drowning in longing- as if everything were finally in its perfect place and she had been bidding time until the perfect moment came, and the moment we kissed was the perfect moment. I obliged both of our desires and slowly sank down on top of her so our lips met for the second time, but with more fervor and significantly more moisture.

I continued with the slow kisses, still feeling like anything too sudden would spook the sensitive girl I was straddling. I allowed my bare legs to slide down and mingle with the skin on hers and then slid them back up again so I could balance poised on my hands and knees above her body. Almost as if it were the only test Brittany ever cared to pass with waving flags, her hands seized my lower back and pushed me back on top of her, sealing in the heat rising between us. And I say she "pushed" me onto her only because that's what must have happened in reality, whereas in my head it seemed like she touched me until I melted on top of her.

I broke from her lips carefully and drug my own slightly parted lips across her check, turning her head to the side with my nose until I had clear and easy access to her neck. With one hand I moved to the hair at the base of her neck, and with the other, I stretched out her right arm and pinned her hand behind her head, leaving my fingers lingering on her palm. The carnal desire to taste her skin swelled inside of me as my lips closed around her neck, and it was all I could do to not try to suck her dry at the point where a hickey was surely forming over her pulse point.

_Britt definitely has makeup to cover that one up later _I reasoned with myself. Then, with inhibitions gone, I closed in at the edge of her jawline right below her ear at the point where firm jaw bone transforms into soft neck. I nibbled there a moment and exhaled lightly from my nose, making sure she could hear it and taking extra care to make it sound erotic. It definitely had the desired effect because milliseconds later, I felt her squirm underneath me in a way that could only be involuntary.

Her hand rose from the small of my back and delved deep inside my hair on the back of my head, seizing me at a point where I had no choice but obey the ways Brittany chose to manipulate my movements. She tilted my head back so she could get her lips to mine, and I had no desire whatsoever to protest. These kisses were wet and totally open mouthed, with tongues sliding back and forth among the space between our bodies, and I was beginning to lose track of whose was whose. When Brittany bit my lip, my eyes flung open and I gasped her breath into my own lungs. Her eyes were open too- she must have been watching me- so I sneered and instantaneously grabbed and pinned her other hand behind her head as well. I didn't even realize what was happening until Brittany spoke up.

"Santana, there's blood!"

And sure enough, a small stream of blood was coming from the inside of my lower lip where Britt had bitten me. Damn that was hot.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Brittany**_

I was so embarrassed about what happened the other night at Santana's house I didn't even want to bring it up again. I was so hesitant to reply when she texted me later that night.

_**10:11pm Santana**__ hey girl_

_**10:23pm Santana**__ I know youre there… it's Sunday night which is when you watch reruns of friends with your cat_

_**10:25pm Britt-Britt**__ yeah sorry. I'm here. Hey!_

_**10:26pm Santana**__ so about earlier…_

_**10:28pm Britt-Britt**__ oh god I was hoping you wouldnt bring it up. I'm sorry about your lip. I dont even know what happened_

_**10:29pm Santana**__ its totally fine, britt. I actually thought it was sorta fun cuz youre not nearly as slobbery and gross as puckerman, whos my go-to for a make out sesh._

_**10:31pm Britt-Britt**__ oh yeah, just a make out sesh. I got you. Well in that case, I had fun too I guess_

_**10:31pm Britt-Britt**__ and it's okay if you wanna do it again_

_**10:34pm Santana**__ okay. Sorry you didnt get to see lord of the rings though hahaha_

_**10:35pm Britt-Britt**__ thats fine I think I get the jest_

_**10:36pm Santana**__ you mean the gist?_

_**10:37pm Britt-**__Britt san you know I dont know what a gist is. I got the jest, like the main idea. Try to keep up._

_**10:40pm Santana**__ haha okay sorry. See you tomorrow in mr. schue's sing-til-you-puke-rainbows class_

_**10:42pm Britt-Britt**__ k night night_

I didn't really feel right after that conversation though. I was totally nervous the whole time we were kissing yesterday and I didn't think it was anything like a normal make-out session. I'd done that a few times with guys at school and it was totally different. For one thing, it didn't move so slowly as if each move were carefully calculated like in math with those fun graphing calculators with games. That stuff is really hard and takes a lot of time and concentration, which is what it felt like with Santana. With other guys though, it's more like Cheerios practice where Coach Sue tells us to do stuff because it's fun for her to watch and suffering makes our weak minds hardened which is good for us. Actually that might just be true about cheerleading.

But after Santana called it a make-out sesh, I felt weird, kind of like I was let down. I mean, it was totally the first time we ever did something like that which is probably why it was so exciting, but labeling it as a substitute for making out with Noah Puckerman didn't seem to do it justice. I don't want to be compared to Puck, especially in that sense.

Instead of thinking about it anymore, I decided to tuck Lord Tubbington into his cradle and go to sleep before my head started hurting too much.

The next day at school, everything seemed normal. Santana and I walked to class together like we always do, pinky in pinky, and when we got to class, she sat next to Puck like she always does and I sat next to Artie like I always do. In Glee Club, we sat on either side of Quinn like always, which is a good thing because I didn't want Santana to notice when I shifted uncomfortably in my seat when Mr. Schue announced another singing competition.

"This week we'll begin a new theme to find a song for Regionals. Everyone has to pick a song that expresses how they experienced first love, a first kiss, a first boyfriend or girlfriend, or another SCHOOL APPROPRIATE first time experience like that. Puck, that goes for you too. School. Appropriate."

My first kiss was totally not cool or fun or exciting at all. I was 11 and this guy from after-school volleyball always hung around where the after-school dance classes were held. One day, he waited until I was leaving and told me he really liked my dancing. I was so flattered because no boy had ever told me something good about my dancing; I didn't think any boys even noticed I danced, even though it was my favorite thing in the world to do. After I told him how much it meant to me that he said that, he said I could pay him back with a kiss. That was another thing no boy had ever indicated interest in me for, so of course I pecked him on the cheek. He said he meant on the lips and then closed in to seal the deal. And now I don't even remember his name or anything else about him except he didn't stay to watch me dance again after that.

My train of thought steered towards my first boyfriend, Artie. I was wondering what kind of song would describe our relationship when Rachel Berry piped up.

"Mr. Schuester, don't you think this is a bit, well, _amateur?_ I mean, there are thousands and thousands of amazing love songs from musicals like Grease, but doesn't that seem a bit childish to you? Don't we want to appear more mature and professional?"

"Oh Rachel, we can dig a little deeper than that, can't we?" Kurt spoke up. "It doesn't have to be from a musical, and it doesn't have to be a cheesy pop song either! What would Barbra say?"

At this point I tuned out again, partly because I don't care at all who Barbra Streisand is or why Rachel loves her so much, but because another person was pulling my mind towards her. Would it be too much if Santana and I sang together? Or even sang _about_ each other? I shook the thought from my head because it was silly to think after one kiss out of I'm sure hundreds Santana has had, I would stand out enough for her to sing a song about me. Plus that would be weird. We're best friends, not _girlfriends. _

When the bell rang to go home, I caught up with Santana.

"Hey, what are you doing after school? My brother borrowed Guitar Hero II from his friend and I haven't played that one much. I was hoping you'd help me unlock all the songs!"

"Yeah I wasn't gonna do anything special," she answered. "I'll just drive us to your house now!"

"In the Mustang you've been fixing?"

"No, that still needs to be painted before it's ready to go. Soon though!"

We got to my house and only Mark was home. I told him to beat it so we could play the game and he grudgingly went outside to play basketball so we could use the TV. I had already played most of the songs with my brother, so after a few songs, the only one we hadn't beaten on the game was Free Bird. We of course left that one alone and decided to just do quick play.

We played my favorite song "Jessica" by the Allman Brothers Band, and then it was Santana's turn to pick a song.

"Do you know any of these songs?" I asked.

"I know a few of them from when my parents used to listen to oldies in the car. I remember my dad really liked this song, and I like the guys last name." She was talking about "Girlfriend" by Matthew Sweet. "Even though it does sound pretty gay. It's kinda cool anyway."

She selected the song and we started to rock. I let her take lead guitar because I figured if she knew the song she would be familiar with the guitar part, and also because my wrist was starting to hurt from shredding so hard.I felt kind of pathetic because of that, but whatever.

_I wanna love somebody. I hear you need somebody to love._

Santana was humming along with the song and not paying attention to me at all, thankfully, because I started getting that weird nervous feeling like I did in the choir room earlier. After the solo rapped up, San began belting the song in her awesome rock-star singing voice, which I thought was a lot different than the one she used for a lot of songs in Glee. Apparently, she was so familiar with the chord progression, she didn't even need to look at the screen, so she turned to me.

"Honey believe me; I'd sure love to call you my girlfriend 'cause you've got a good thing goin' baby. You only need somebody to love!"

I was laughing out of nervousness. She was just singing _at_ me, right? Not like, _to _me. I was totally confused about what Santana meant by this, when the song ended with "No, I'm never gonna set you free" and a guitar lick.

When I looked up from my feet that I was smiling nervously at, replaying the scene in my head, San had taken her guitar off and set it down and turned the Playstation off. She was walking towards me and stopped right in front of me.

"What are you staring at, Britt?"

I guess I was transfixed by the way her hair had fallen around her face during the game. I backed up half a step and stuttered a little bit.

"Uh, um, I- I was… Are you thirsty or anything?" I pointed my thumb behind me towards the kitchen. "I can like, uh, get us something to drink."

Santana just stepped in to close the space between us again. She had a concerned look on her face, probably reflecting the puzzled look in mine.

"Are you feeling alright?"

I looked from side to side out of the corners of my eyes and took another step back but ended up bumping my head on the frame of the door and stumbling back into the wall. It made a totally loud thumping noise and my hand shot to the back of my head.

"Ow! Well I don't feel so hot anymore… hehe," I giggled nervously and surprisingly quietly.

Again, Santana stepped in to close the space between us, but this time I didn't know how to react because there was less than a foot between us. She reached towards the back of my head with one hand and behind the small of my back with the other. She pulled me into a hug so my chin was resting behind her shoulder. After a little squeeze, I started to pull away but stopped when I was just a few inches from her face.

"Do you wanna sing a song with me for the Glee assignment this week?" I was looking in her eyes and was pretty surprised with myself, not having any idea I was going to ask that.

"What song?" Santana whispered.

"I haven't gotten that far. I just want to sing with you a lot for some reason. Especially this week."

Wait, what did I just say? I didn't have any time to figure it out though because there was no room to think. Santana's lips met mine, which were already parted in expectation on their own accord, because I surely didn't tell them to do that. It felt as if she was controlling my whole body, the way my tongue was reacting to her taste. I felt her lips with my tongue, then her own met mine inside her mouth. My hands moved to brace myself against her hips as she moved us back against the wall ever so carefully so I wouldn't hit my head again. In fact, she put one hand behind my head, wrapped up in my hair, but I think that was for her pleasure.

Our kisses were still slow and gentle, but not as tame as they were on Santana's couch. I could hear the popping and parting of our lips as we broke for a moment before rediscovering each other's mouths in my quiet living room.

"Wait," I mumbled, speech slurred. I turned my head away from her mouth so I could listen for the bouncing of my brother's basketball outside. Santana didn't miss a moment to take the skin of my neck into her mouth while my head was turned the other way.

"Uhn, wait Santana…" I spoke weakly. It was really hard to hear anything when I could feel her tongue and her lips working away at the skin by my jaw. I thought I heard the chain of the net rattling in the driveway so I allowed myself to refocus on the sensations I felt from being pinned to a wall by a sexy Latina girl's lips.

As if her lips and tongue weren't enough for her to feel me, her hands began running wild across my body. They ran from my back to my cheeks, where she brushed under my eyes with her thumbs as if wiping away invisible tears. I got the feeling she never did something so soft or sensitive when she was kissing anyone else.

Her hands then trailed down my neck and past my shoulders. She traced my collar bone on either side with her fingertips before sliding all the way down to my hips, mirroring the way I was clinging to her. I decided I wasn't satiated with the way my hands had been so still either, so I took the liberty to touch as much of her skin as I could.

I started by putting my hands over hers on my hips and slid them up her arms, all the while kissing her more and more, using my tongue as often as possible to stay connected in such an intimate way. When my hands found their way to her shoulders, I slid them down the sides of her rib cage until I met the waistline of her Cheerios skirt. I inched my fingertips up inside her top and brushed her belly lightly.

"Brittany!" Santana whispered as her breath caught. She sighed heavily into my cheek as I put my whole hands on the skin under her shirt around her waist. Her breath tickled my face.

"I should leave you a little something to remember me by on your neck…" I grumbled into her mouth as I broke away to kiss her neck as vigorously as she had kissed mine.

"BRITTANY! I scraped my knee!" Mark's voice rang from the open front door only feet away.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Santana**_

I froze in place as I grappled with the thoughts wrestling each other for my undivided attention: Brittany's brother vs. my super sexy lady loving going on with Britt. The choice of what to do next was taken from me however. I felt her warm hands quickly slip from the bare skin on my sides and the heat we were so adequately sealing between our Cheerios uniforms left as quickly as it had come. I stayed pressed against the wall and watched myself slide to the floor from what felt like another person's body. In the kitchen, I heard the siblings chattering about how Mark hurt himself and how he needed to be more careful. I closed my eyes and only opened them again when I heard the little pre-teen, moment ruining, too-innocent-for-his-own-good buzz killer thundering upstairs.

"Santana, did you fall down?" Brittany asked as she re-entered the living room.

Well I did seem to be rather weak in the knees, but I didn't let on to that aloud. "No, I just didn't know how long you were going to take playing doctor with your brother in there."

She pulled me to my feet long enough for me to flop my limp body down on the couch next to her. The way I landed made me slide a little closer to her than what would be considered normal, I'm sure, but instead of scooting away, she lifted her arm and replaced it across my chest when I fell into her.

I didn't know how to react to the situation without being weird so I grunted in a way that indicated I was too tired to move and closed my eyes again. Mostly I just figured I wouldn't blush so hard if I wasn't staring into the only eyes that see right through me.

"Britt-Britt, I can't figure out why the twerps at school call you dumb. Their heads are obviously too far up their waxed and bleached ass holes to see me like you do."

I cracked my eyes open and peered up at Brittany's face, wondering why she didn't respond immediately.

"You're the only person who believes that though, San. Even me."

"What the hell, you're like the coolest girl ever! How can YOU of all people not see how smart and unique you are?" After I said this, I saw her cheeks flush a tiny bit.

I sat up and continued, moving her arm and swiveling so I could hold her hand in my lap. Only to emphasize my point, of course. Not because I wanted to trace her fingers with mine to get a feel for how soft they were.

"Brittany, I don't want to hear this crap about you not thinking as highly of yourself as I do. I may be as rude and tactless as Coach Sue sometimes, but I know I'm a hundred percent correct, especially when it comes to you. Who else knows you like I do?"

She seemed to acknowledge what I said about her, so I released her hand and stood up.

"Are you going?" she asked, looking a little let down.

"Yeah, I mean, I know for sure we can't beat Free Bird right now. I need to get home. I have some work to do on that Mustang you're so excited about."

She stood as well and led me to her front door. We hugged for a moment before I headed home, partially thinking about how bad it would have been if Mark had seen us but mostly recalling the sensation of her fingers making me tingle in places that rarely feel special when anyone else touches them. I even ventured as far to wonder what that tingling touch would feel like in a few more _private_ places. My body gave an involuntary shudder at the thought, and I decided I would be better off focusing on the road.

That night when I got home, my mind was buzzing far too much to rest, so I changed clothes and headed straight to the garage. I wanted to be able to drive the Mustang to school tomorrow, so at the very least I would have a new sexy car to keep my mouth moving while my thoughts sorted out everything about Brittany. I caught myself once or twice painting hearts or the beginning of her name on the car absentmindedly. What scared me most about that wasn't that I nearly painted the entire windshield black, but that I was doodling. I can't remember the last time I doodled someone's name. Damn.

When I was finished, I stood back to admire my handiwork. The car looked better than Thor and Brad Pitt put together, which really tells a lot about how hard I was digging it. I unfortunately looked as homeless as Finn does after a particularly rough football practice, seeing as how I had painted on myself almost as much as I mistakenly painted disgusting mushy things about Britt. I heard a ding behind me and became aware that I had been out in the garage working for hours and didn't stop once to check my phone.

_**7:55pm Britt-Britt**__ thanks for helping me get farther in the game, and sorry mark came in and ruined our fun…_

_**8:17pm Britt-Britt**__ I wish you would answer cuz lord tubbz cant think of anything to make me feel better_

_**8:32pm Britt-Britt**__ Santana you're scaring me. Why won't you answer? Did it upset you, you know, what we did at my house?_

_**9:14pm Britt-Britt**__ okay well I guess ill see you tomorrow then. Sorry if I did something wrong_

_**9:49pm Quinn Fabray**__ hey, you need to text Brittany back. Shes all worked up about something and called me in hysterics. Thanks._

"Shit," I blurted out to no one in particular, hoping I didn't upset Brittany too much. I quickly typed a response that somehow felt inadequate, seeing how concerned Brittany was about me. Even Quinn got involved, so I know she must have been crying. She never calls anyone else if she's crying and can't talk to me.

_**9:55pm Santana**__ hey britt britt, sorry about not responding. I was working on something special for you, I think youll really like it. But you cant see until tomorrow. And to answer your question, you and marky short-stuff didnt scare me off, I was just focused on my little project_

I headed inside as I waited for her response and I finally realized how hungry I was. It was ten at night and I hadn't eaten since the lunch ladies served recycled diarrhea for lunch. I popped a TV dinner in the microwave and slumped onto the counter, leaning my head back against the cabinets and letting myself relax for probably the first time all day. The microwave gave the signal that my gourmet meal was ready, and I was starting to feel a little self-conscious since Brittany hadn't texted back. I could understand why she'd be upset that I didn't reply to her for so long.

Finally my phone went off again, and I wasted no time reading the text.

_**10:12pm Britt-Britt**__ oh, wow that makes me feel better. Lord tubbington said it was probably that you were busy, not avoiding me. I wish I would have listened better so I wouldnt have called quinn and made her anxious. Cant you send me a picture of the surprise?_

_**10:16pm Santana**__ heres something else. This might give you a hint of what I was doing_

I sent a picture of myself covered in paint and with my hair in disarray instead of showing her the car. The car was just something that you have to see in person for the first time.

_**10:18pm Britt-Britt**__ wow santana, I hate to break it to you but I dont even wanna see the surprise after seeing that. I dont think itll be as good._

_**10:21pm Santana**__ whats that supposed to mean? Anyway, I have to shower. Be at school early and wait for me._

With that, I hopped in the shower to think in privacy about what Brittany had said. She thinks I'm a better surprise than that super sexy Mustang? She liked that Mustang as if it were her own car even when it was shit brown. I spent the rest of the shower slowly scrubbing my body, wondering what it would feel like if her hands replaced mine for the night…


	6. Chapter 6

_**Brittany**_

I woke up that morning feeling really nervous and excited, as if I were going to Six Flags for the first time. The night before, after Santana texted me back and I knew everything was okay, I decided to make her a CD with the theme of songs I wanted to sing with her or _to_ her for the week's Glee assignment. We still hadn't started at all, and we only had a few days until the deadline. I wasn't worried about not being able to practice enough though; I just wanted to make sure the song we picked was perfect. That is, if Santana and I were really singing together for the assignment.

I got to school early just like she asked and waited around near her parking spot, slapping the CD I made against my palm and pacing in circles. I still had that nervous and excited feeling like I did when I woke up, even though I was pretty sure the surprise was just her finished car. I had figured it out not because Santana was all covered in paint in the picture she sent me last night, but because I knew she had some thinking to do after what happened in my living room, and the only place Santana likes to think about difficult stuff is out in the garage. Also, she just had that look on her face like she accomplished something. I could see it in the way she crinkled the corners of her eyes when she smiled.

I heard pavement crunching underneath tires and the purring of a racing engine, and as I swiveled around, I was nearly blinded by the sight in front of me.

"Oh my GOD Santana! This is the most amazing work I've ever seen you do! And I saw how you conditioned my mom's mini-van and also got Kurt's dad's old Corvette touched up after Kurt let Blaine drive it! The Mustang is AMAZING!" I squealed as I ran around the sides looking at it from every angle.

"It looks better from the inside. Come one, hop in! We're ditching class and only coming back for Glee club later. This car is too good to wait in a parking lot."

I hesitated for a second, but by the time I got around to thinking about whether or not it was a good idea, my feet had already propelled me to the door. I got in and buckled up immediately, wanting to get on the road and open up the engine as soon as possible. I nearly forgot about the CD in my hand until Santana brought it up.

"What are you holding?"

"Oh," I blushed, suddenly feeling really immature for making her a CD for no reason. "I… made you a CD last night. I kinda had trouble sleeping, so I did this instead."

"Pop it in, then!"

I took my time putting the CD in, allowing my eyes to venture around the dashboard and the front seats. It really _did_ look better from the inside. Not only could you see the sexy curves of the hood, but the racing seats and the gentle rumble of the car beneath me really added to the looks. By the time I snapped my jaw shut to stop the drool from spilling from my lips, we were on a major road, headed away from the school.

Beyonce's "Run the World" was pumping through the speakers, which Santana must have replaced. I picked this song to put on the CD because Beyonce is one of the sexiest singers I know, which reminds me of Santana, and also the song is about girl power, which also reminds me of Santana because she doesn't take crap from anybody, especially guys. She does what she wants, and if you get in her way, so help you God.

I wasn't entirely sure if it would be appropriate to say that out loud though, so I spent a lot of time looking at my lap in silence. It didn't offer any advice though, so I looked over at Santana, but that didn't help me think of anything to say either.

She had the windows down and one arm was making waves through the air while the other rested on top of the steering wheel casually. As we stopped at lights and started up again, I was momentarily confused because I saw San shifting the gears, but the ride was as smooth as if it were an automatic. We were accelerating on a back road by the farmy part of Lima, disregarding the 50mph speed limit completely. I wasn't thinking about how fast we were going in the car though. I just wanted her to keep shifting gears because she looked so strong and sexy when she did it. I could see the curves of her skinny but totally muscular arms as she move the gear shift, and the way her thigh muscles tensed and relaxed as she pushed in the clutch got me thinking about a few things that were definitely not rated PG. Santana's dark skin and slight scowl pulled it all together and made her seem like the perfect driver for this particular car. Of course she's the perfect driver. She's perfect for everything, especially the car she refinished herself!

I was aware of the songs changing on the CD, and I looked at the stereo, hoping it would tell me what song was up next before Santana could hear. I didn't remember what I put on it but I really didn't want something horribly embarrassing to start playing. It was out of my control though, so I waited nervously to see how Santana would react to the Jason Mraz song coming through the speakers.

"Make It Mine? Haven't heard this one in a while. I like it though, Britt. This CD is awesome, thanks so much."

I giggled nervously, so relieved that she didn't think I was weird or anything. Now that the weight was lifted, I felt like I could speak regularly again.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so glad you like it. I was so nervous for a minute there."

I slumped back in my seat and closed my eyes so I could focus on having a good time with Santana before we had to headed back to reality. I felt her fingertips on my thigh though, and my eyes flew open.

"Didn't mean to make you nervous. Geez, why so jumpy, Miss Skiddish? Something bite you?"

"Haha, no…" I said clearly before I dropped my voice to mumble into the window. "Wish you would do _that_ to my neck again though."

"What was that?" Santana asked, but it looked like she might have heard me anyway.

I didn't know what to say, so I sat there opening and closing my mouth a few times. Santana kept glancing at me, then the road, then back to me again. Why did she have such an eager look in her eyes? I decided that Santana was at the very least my best friend, so I could be honest with her, even about weird stuff like this.

"Oh," I started, unsure of where to go next. "I guess I just like when you touch my skin. A lot. And I like when we're alone together. And the way we've started touching and kissing. I just don't really know how you feel about it." I paused, only allowing my eyes to flit towards her face every now and then. I guess I was afraid she wouldn't feel the same way. "Oh, and your car is the sexiest thing ever."

Santana didn't respond. She just kept looking around the side of the road like she was going to pull over and kick me out. She took the next turn she could into this wooded area and drove a short way into the thicker part of the woods. She stopped the car abruptly so my body jerked forward against the seatbelt.

"Unbuckle." It was a demand, not a request. She didn't sound angry, but she didn't sound peppy or light either. I obeyed nonetheless, and then looked at her legs, still afraid to meet her eyes. I heard her seatbelt click off and then felt her pulling my chin up to meet her eyes.

"I'm not sure of what to say, but I know for sure what I want to do." It was the only hint Santana gave me of what was inside, and I didn't know what to make of it until she pulled me towards her side of the car and kissed me.

I threw my hands out to catch myself: one on the side of the seat closest to me and one on her thigh farthest from me. She grabbed me by my Cheerios top and pulled me so I effortlessly transferred to her side of the car, straddling her in the driver's seat. I felt the seat lean back and I was on top of her, not daring to break the kiss even through all the movement in case she lost her nerve and we stopped.

"Brittany, back seat," she groaned into my mouth. I knew where her mind was headed and I allowed my body to react to it. Suddenly I felt more like a crazed animal than a teenager, and I dismounted and sprung into the back seat, kicking off my shoes and socks in the process. Santana did the same and landed on top of me on the smooth, refinished upholstery that still smelled new.

Her strong arms looked surprisingly dark under the shade of the canopy surrounding the car, and they felt even stronger than they looked when she grabbed my waist and pulled me down the seat so I could lay flat on my back. I reached towards the hem of her top and slid my fingertips underneath, caressing her skin like I did in my living room, but Santana didn't have the patience for such things. She grabbed her top and yanked it over her head and tossed it toward the front seat.

I've seen Santana in a bra plenty of times in the locker room at school, but it was never like this. The black lace was so fitting on her, as if the bra were tailored for her specifically. I was staring unabashedly and when I looked up to judge her reaction to my ogling, she looked like she was basking in it. I felt bad that she didn't have something to ogle at, so I grumbled for Santana to take my uniform off too.

I watched her dip down and run her hands up my sides, kissing my stomach as she pushed the material up. I raised my arms over my head so the top would slide right off, but instead of removing it all the way, she moved it past my head and then pinned my arms against the side of the car with my top. Our eyes met for a minute as she sneered at me, clearly enjoying the view of my exposed skin and her dominance over the situation. To be honest, I think I was even enjoying it more.

I tilted my head, hoping it would reduce the distance between our mouths. I wanted her tongue to work its way through my mouth again, this time with force and direction. Santana took the hint and obliged me for a few minutes before moving on to her own agenda, which involved kissing all the parts of me that were formerly hidden by my Cherrios top. My stomach quivered under the touch of her lips, which only led Santana to kiss me more in the sensitive spots near the edge of my skirt. She released my hands so she could use her own to trace my ribcage and squeeze my hips. I used my newfound liberty to start sliding Santana's skirt down.

"I'm not gonna be the only one in this car only in underwear," Santana sneered. She moved onto her knees, hovering above me as she yanked my skirt off before removing hers the rest of the way.

"I'm not gonna be the only one laying on my back while you get to control all the touching," I sneered back as I sat up quickly, seizing Santana by the sides. I pushed and twisted so when we fell back down, she was below me.

"Damn, Britt. I didn't think you wanted a turn," she growled. The timbre of her voice was sticky, which only seemed to mimic another part of my body.

I hovered above her for a few moments, enjoying the view from a distance. Well, a relative distance, we were still connected at the waist. That thought made me suddenly aware of my lower half. Was it just me, or did it feel a little moist in the area below, where our hips were touching? I pushed the thought aside though, because we were beyond the point of being embarrassed. I lowered myself slowly back towards Santana's torso, taking my time so I could enjoy the tortured look in her eye. My hands grazed all the parts of her body I could reach: her thighs, her stomach, her sides, the outline of her bra and the edge of her underwear. Every time I removed my hands, I felt Santana's back arch and her stomach press against mine as if any greater lack of contact would end catastrophically.

"Kiss me, you tease," Santana whined, reaching for my neck herself. I ducked from under her grasp and planted my lips right above her underwear, right at the top of the crook her hip bone makes. I worked my lips and my tongue against the spot, trying to leave a hickey.

"Is here fine?" I slurred against her skin. All I got in response was a sigh.

I toyed at the edge of her underwear with my finger before sliding them down a little more so I could have access to the sensitive skin at the juncture between her leg and her pelvis, where a crease formed pointing to the spot I was headed next. I used my tongue to trace circles on the spot. When I looked up, Santana had her head tilted back towards the side of the car with her eyes closed, muttering indistinguishable Spanish phrases. I couldn't tell if they were curses or blessings, but the honey in her voice made me tingle between my own legs, adding to the stickiness I was feeling.

I loved the way she looked from this angle, but I thought it would be mean if I kept her like that any longer. With that, I reached for both sides of her lacey black underwear and slid them down her thighs to her toes, softly dragging my fingers along the sides of her legs all the way down. When they were off, she looked up at me and wrapped her heels around the back of my neck. She didn't pull me back down or force me anywhere; the pleading in her eyes was enough.

I slid forward between her sexy tan legs and met her lips with my own once more for a moment, wanting to taste the desire she was feeling. I felt it on her tongue in the way she dove in and out of my mouth, but it wasn't rough and needy like a boy would have done. It was knowing and eager, but patient in a way that made me feel like whatever I wanted to do was fine with her while still being clear that she wanted as much as I would give. Feeling this, I broke away and kissed a trail back to where I was before her underwear got lost somewhere in the front of the car.

"Brittany, you don't…" Santana trailed off, because then I made the first move. I was surprised to find her as, well, _wet_ as I felt. After a few moments of kissing the outer parts, I couldn't tell if the moisture was from her or from my mouth. Deciding it didn't matter either way, I got ready for business.

I opened my mouth a bit wider so I could do some serious work with my tongue. I could tell which places liked more pressure and which places liked to get played with gently by the way Santana's back arched, or the way she flung her hands about, trying to find something she could dig her nails into, or the way her breath hitched and she got momentarily rigid when I touched a certain way. I used my hands to squeeze her legs and her hips and her stomach, not sure of who I was trying to brace. The taste was bitter, but not at all as I imagined. When my tongue went as far inside of her as I could get it, it felt warm and delicate, so I was surprised when Santana grumbled to me.

"Britt, go harder," she stuttered, gasping as I removed my tongue and clamped my lips around the sensitive part on the outside filled with nerves. "Keep doing that, but harder… aggressive…"

If she wanted me to be aggressive, I could definitely do that. I was happy to oblige, since the desire to go a little harder had been building inside of me. I just wanted to make sure I was gentle and sensitive enough with Santana's perfect body. I didn't want to hurt her or scare her, but since she was asking for it, all restraint inside of me snapped.

I grabbed her by the sides of her ribcage and pulled her forcefully so she was flat on her back. I slid my hands up and nearly clawed at her boobs, getting in a good feel for them before sliding my hands back down to her thighs. I grabbed her legs and pushed them to a 90 degree angle, wrapped them behind my neck and pushed her thighs apart so there was more room to work down there. I don't know how I knew to do any of this, but it definitely seemed like the best plan of action.

I settled down back near her center and kissed the flat, top part of her, looking at her face. Her breathing was short and heavy, as if she were running hard.

I worked my lips and my tongue back down to the sensitive outside nerves, not bothering to be as gentle as before. I was treating it like a race- like I was trying to win a contest instead of taste a delicacy. I could hear Santana whimpering and felt her squirming, a string of Spanish still flowing from her mouth. I think it took her by surprise when I pushed her legs a little wider and dug my tongue in, working it hard in every direction I could manage, in and out until the strain was making my face hurt. I knew we were almost there though, because the whimpers had become full on moans, some of them just animalistic sounding, some of them containing my name, some of them curses or praises in a loud, strong Spanish. I was sure none of it would be appropriate for Mr. Schue's class, but that thought didn't stay to linger in my mind. I had work to do.

I released her thighs and moved my hands up to her sides, squeezing and sliding them across all parts of her torso I could reach. My thumbs found the nooks her hip bones made that I was kissing earlier, and I pressed gently there. I was ever so diligently working at her bundle of nerves on the outer part, working my hands until there was a rhythm between us. Santana's back arched ever higher when I went back into her center, lightly sucking on the outside between series of chaotic endeavors on the inside led by my tongue. She was practically bucking into my mouth, keeping rhythm to the way I was squeezing her hips until I felt her nearly lift entirely from the back seat of the Mustang. She went rigid and cried out into the car, this time in an indistinguishable moan. I removed my head from between her legs and guided her back down from the heights of her pleasure with my hands, making sure to be gentle again.

While her eyes were still closed and she was still panting on her back, sweating onto the upholstery, I seized one of our shirts and gave my mouth a quick wipe. What we did wasn't exactly the neatest business. I sat back and waited for her to open her eyes, grinning from ear to ear. I'd like to see Puckerman try making Santana move like _that._


End file.
